On the Topic of Big Brothers
by Minchuks
Summary: Poor Iceland is probably never going to get over his hatred of having Norway force him to say "Big Brother".


My usual disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz, not me.

* * *

 _"Call me big brother."_

The phrase echoed in Emil's head, yet he couldn't say a word in protest. He heard the words once again, clearer this time, behind him.

" _Call me big brother..._ "

He turned around, and saw Lukas' figure standing there, staring blankly at him. Normally, he wouldn't have been surprised at all, but there was something unsettling about the Norwegian this time around. Emil tried to say something, anything, but the words he tried to voice kept catching in his throat.

His frustration grew, but he wouldn't give in to Lukas' wishes either. Emil answered the Norwegian's glare with that of his own, but the other didn't move a muscle, continuing to stand as stoic as ever. When the words came again, they sounded less human and much more ghostly.

" _Emil... Call me big brother..._ "

It was then that Emil saw Lukas' figure shift. For a second he felt slight relief, but his heart began racing when the person in front of him became the spirit of a troll.

He didn't know why he was running away, and doing so as fast as he was, but the adrenaline coursing in his veins sent him bolting from the creature, running for his life. It was of little use, though. The spirit was approaching closer by the second. His lungs screamed for air, sweat beaded on his forehead, terror clouded his rational thoughts, and the only wish that remained was that this... whatever it was, stopped.

Even that was wiped away when he felt a searing pain in his back, like a chainsaw passing through his torso, as the spirit went through his body and sent him to the ground with a thud, the troll itself disintegrating in a cloud of smoke.

Emil gasped for air, trying to slow his breathing and calm himself. He propped his body up on one arm, reaching to his chest with the other. He was relieved to know it was intact; no pain was brought by the touch or blood left on his hand. He sighed, rolling over onto his back, and stared up into the dark sky.

 _'What the hell is going on?'_

His moment of respite was short lived, however. Lukas appeared in front of him, staring intently at the Icelander, and then another, and another, until they surrounded him in a circle. Every single figure was shrouded in a cold, purple aura, and their normally dull indigo eyes were faintly glowing.

 _'Lukas, you really need to calm down with your magic...'_ Emil thought. He rose up, and observed the people around him. All of them were identical copies to the Norwegian he knew too well, but even freakier than usual.

"Call me big brother."

They spoke in perfect unison, and Emil's lips curled into a twisted smirk. First a troll trying to kill him, and now _this_?!

He attempted to shove his way past the clones, only to slam into what felt like a solid brick wall. No matter how much he pushed, he couldn't get any of them to do as much as move a finger. The only signs of life in them were the condescending eyes that followed Emil wherever he went.

"Call me big brother, Emil."

It made no sense. He couldn't say anything even if he wanted to, so why were they asking him this? And besides, he would never do it. Never, ever, ever.

"Big brother."

 _No._

"Big brother."

 _Shut up._

Of course, his thoughts had no chance of affecting the Norwegian, or Norwegians, whose question had turned into a relentless chant. Over and over, they repeated the words in the monotone voice he had heard all his life, until they sounded like nothing more than a dull blur of noise. Emil almost gave out, but a firm nudge on his shoulder stopped him.

"Emil, wake up."

His reaction was immediate, rising up sharply, his breaths shallow and heartbeat racing. He looked around, and saw that he was in the comfort of his bed, with no sign of the copies of Lukas anywhere, save for one - the real one - who woke him up. But right now the sight of him was too much.

"Get out of my room," Emil muttered. The Norwegian didn't seem fazed at all, but turned away and left the Icelander alone.

"Breakfast is ready," Lukas said. At least he had the audacity to shut the door behind him. Emil rested his head in his palms as soon as he had left.

 _That_ must have been the strangest dream, or nightmare, he had ever had.

He was hesitant to get out of bed, and found a slight excuse not to when he noticed his phone's light blinking, so he picked it up and read the words on the screen.

 _2 unread messages from: Leon_

 _Leon: Yo_

 _Leon: Wanna grab lunch today?_

He smirked as he wrote the response.

 _Emil: Sure, see ya then._

As he sent the message, he caught a quick glance at the time Leon had sent his messages. 3:14am. Emil sighed and typed out another text.

 _Emil: And you need to learn how to sleep_

Leon's response came only seconds later.

 _Leon: Perhaps later with you ;)_

He did that every freaking time, knowing it would make Emil embarrassed and blush like a boy in middle school.

...not that he really hated it, though.

The sudden sound of Mathias' booming voice reminded him of the people who were probably waiting for him at the breakfast table. However, he was of his friends' shared opinion that the Dane should learn to not be so loud all the time.

He finally got out of the bed, and opened the curtains, blinded for a moment by the sunlight. Despite that, he enjoyed the sun and the feeling of its warm rays on his skin, considering how little of either he got in the cold and harsh place that was his native home.

"I'm trying to sleep, close those damn curtains, buddy!" Mr. Puffin growled, glaring daggers at his owner.

Emil groaned. "You're a real pain in the neck, you know that?" Reluctantly, he drew one of the curtains closed, giving the puffin the shade he wanted.

"EMIL! COME EAT SOME PASTRIES BEFORE LUKAS EATS THEM ALL-" Mathias' shouts were quickly replaced by the sound of the Dane choking, undoubtedly the work of Lukas, as usual.

Emil rushed to get dressed, throwing on his favorite brown jacket, brushed out his hair, and finally left his room, even though he had been woken up at least half an hour ago.

The rest of the Nordics had long since made themselves comfortable on the couches surrounding the breakfast table; perhaps save for Mathias, who was still breathing a bit louder than usual.

"God morgen, Emil!" the Dane greeted happily, despite his previous ordeal.

"Good morning," the Icelander replied.

Mathias let out an exasperated sigh. "Could you, perhaps, get Lukas to stop choking me? All I wanted was to get you to come eat with us..." he whispered.

"I heard that."

Both of them turned their attention to Lukas, looking as sharp and stoic as ever, sipping his coffee like it's nobody's business, a fairy casually resting on his shoulder, and the same troll which he saw in his dream floating in the air, both wearing shades-

Emil had to look twice. Even after that, the creatures were still there, but no one else seemed to notice. Besides that, the only weird thing was that smirk on Mathias' face.

"What do you guys plan on doing today?" Tino asked.

' _Thank the Norns for the existence of people like Tino,_ ' Emil thought. The Finn's question caught everyone's attention quickly, though no one answered for a solid minute.

Until the Dane broke the silence with a laugh, that is. "I need some new shelves in my room, I thought about going to IKEA. Ber, you're an expert in that, maybe you could come along?"

"Did you just-"

"I think he did."

Emil and Lukas quickly exchanged a nervous glance, and then turned to the Swede. If there was one thing that gave him a reason to exist, it was IKEA. Even the mere mention of the store excited Berwald as if he was a kid brought to a candy store. The Nordics had long since lost count of the hours they had spent in IKEA pulling Berwald off of the seventeenth or so chair he had fallen in love with in the previous 15 minutes, or frankly just trying to find the one of them who had become lost in that endless maze of wonderfully cheap Swedish furniture, in most cases Mathias, who would always be found somewhere among the wood shelves, stuffing his face with meatballs.

Tino twitched a bit, a dark aura gathering around him. His teeth were bared in a creepy, grotesque smile as his hand reached across the table.

"Dude, you okay?" the Dane questioned.

The Finn's grasp tightened around a knife. He delicately lifted it from the table, rose his arm a bit higher and-

"TINO I'M SORRY I SWEAR I WON'T EVER MENTION IKEA AGAIN IN FRONT OF BER PLEASE SHOW MERCY!"

-and the blade went cleanly through a loaf of bread, and a wedge of it fell away from the loaf, landing with a quiet thud.

"Here. It's rye bread, I baked it this morning," Tino said, handing the slice to a shook Emil.

A breakfast with the Nordics without someone dying at least twice is considered a dull affair.

"Anyway, I was thinking, since it's getting pretty cold, and we've all been stressing out lately, maybe we should go to the sauna?" Tino suggested.

"Sounds great, but I'm still quite busy." Berwald replied, and his statement was followed by a collective sigh of agreement, disappointment and understanding from all but the Icelander.

He had never been able to catch up with the mainland European tendencies and present situations, being so isolated from the rest of them. Whenever their conversations turned in that direction, he'd stop listening in seconds and wait for them to talk about something a bit more interesting, like puffins, or nature conversation, or even the bread he was nibbling on. Sure, it wasn't quite as delicious as the lava-baked bread he could get back home in Iceland, but this was good, too. Every now and then he'd hear bits of their conversation, but he ignored them for the most part.

Especially when they talked about their achievements, he'd tune out faster than a dad at a Bieber concert. He was sick of hearing how well Berwald's singers did in that song contest, or how good Tino's and Lukas' teams were at winter sports. All that most people knew about Iceland was that it has beautiful scenery and a meme originated from there. Oh, and Vikings. Those guys were cool, they discovered America.

Emil was happy for what his friends had achieved, but he wanted to be slightly more noticed than he was. It made him very frustrated, as anyone would be, and as well as he tried to hide it, his nibbling of the bread became more and more aggressive.

"Emil, you okay, buddy?" Mathias said.

"Yeah." Emil replied absentmindedly, as he usually did while trying to avoid all conversation about his feelings.

Lukas abruptly put down his cup of coffee and stood up. "I'll be right back."

Needless to say, Emil was a bit puzzled, but the Norwegian soon returned with a pack of black licorice, _authentic black licorice from Iceland_ , Emil remarked, and put it on the table in front of him before sitting down in his usual spot.

Emil hadn't yet opened his mouth to respond when Lukas spoke again. "In exchange, call me big brother."

 _'Not this again.'_

"Come on, you two are still going on about that?" Mathias laughed.

"But isn't it cool? I wish I had someone who'd call me their big brother..." Tino said dreamily.

"Don't encourage him! At least you agree with me, right, Ber?" Emil asked nervously.

"I think it's cute," the Swede replied.

The Icelander groaned in anger and defeat. And thanks to Berwald, he had found another icky thing about the nickname he hated so much that it appeared in his nightmares.

But, he did love licorice, and Lukas was kind enough to bring it to him...

"Thanks for the licorice... big brother."

He looked up slightly, enough to see Lukas' face, and he saw his lips curl into a mischievous smirk.

Within seconds he found himself hiding behind a large pillow, face flushing furiously.

"I hate all of you." Emil muttered into the pillow, with Mathias' roaring laughter in the background.


End file.
